Was That What It Was?
by TheResurrectionist
Summary: Crackly Crobby for a friends prompt: Hunters didn't get erotic feelings about demons. Bobby certainly didn't. He wasn't Sam Winchester. Happy holidays! Rated T for swearing


A/N Crack Crobby for a friend. For all you lonely people who read fanfiction during Christmas, this is for you! :)

Was That What It Was?  
Hunters didn't get erotic feelings about demons. Bobby certainly didn't. He wasn't Sam Winchester after all.  
But the day that snake tongued demon showed up in his house, the last thing Bobby wanted to do was exorcise him.  
It wasn't just that Crowley's meat suit was charming. He was, an older, distinguished man that made Bobby feel all warm inside whenever he looked at his immaculate hair and suit. Not that he was looking.  
When Crowley showed up in his living room and ordered a scotch from a flabbergasted Bobby, Bobby had spun out of the room and ignored the calls of "Something I said, Robert?" And had a pout time out in his bedroom. But not the girly kind of pout like Sam did.  
Speaking of Sam.  
When Bobby had finally started talking to Crowley, who appeared once a day (at midnight, the dramatic bastard) and tried to start a conversation, Crowley was thrilled. The gruff hunter had grumbled but eventually sat down and listened to the demon, who, unsurprisingly, had a lot to say.  
"I really think the puce would look better than the mauve on this scarf, don't you, Robert?" He'd ask one day, or the next it would be about cars. "I mean, why would you let all those cars rust out there? I could buy you one, and you wouldn't need all those rust buckets." He'd said, pointing with his eyebrows raised like Bobby should take his suggestion.  
Bobby had fumed, running upstairs as he came to terms with the fact that while he was mad at Crowley, the only thing he could think about was his much he missed the demon when he was gone. And the not so nice urges he'd gotten whenever the demon stretched lazily, like a cat, hands up as he eyed Bobby with something he'd almost call lust.  
So, like any sane person, he called Sam. It's not like Sam was new to demon lust, and maybe he could tell Bobby what to do.  
Well, thinking back, it hasn't worked out all that well for Sam. He did release the devil because he screwed around with Ruby. But maybe he'd have some pointers?  
"Hey Sam," Bobby said.  
"Uh, hey Bobby! What can I help you with?" Came Sam's cheery voice across the telephone line.  
"Uh," Bobby started, trying to figure out how to put into words that he was having a demon lover crisis.  
"Ah, remember Crowley?" He started, glad he got those words out.  
"Ah, yeah Bobby. Why, is something up?"  
"No, no, no." He said far too quickly. "I was just wondering, uh, you know," he was so eloquent. "How you dealt with Ruby?"  
"Do you mean how I killed her?" Sam asked, confused.  
"Um, about why you were...with her." Bobby said painfully, pretty sure he'd just embarrassed himself in front of one of the few men who still held respect for him.  
"Oh." Came Sam's voice. "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh."  
There was a rustling sound, like Sam was sitting down, and Bobby rubbed his face in shame. God, he was screwed.  
"Bobby, you need to listen to me." Sam's voice was stern. "Run down to the panic room but grab these things on the way; three apples, a knife, a spare set of underwear, two bags of salt, the emergency Disney movie I left in the DVD player, and the ice cream I left in the back of the freezer. Go now, quickly! Call me back when you lock the door."  
The line went dead, and Bobby was so confused there wasn't a word for it. This is how you dealt with lusting after demons?  
He gathered the items anyway, making his way down to the panic room as quick as possible. The clock on the wall of the room said it was eleven, and Bobby got twitchy thinking about Crowley's impending visit.  
Hands shaking slightly, he dialed Sam's number. The other man picked up immediately, sharp hello echoing in Bobby's ears.  
"Bobby, take a deep breath." Sam said, sounding creepily like that yoga instructor he'd dragged him to once.  
"I'm not going to say what you're feeling is normal, but there's a way to deal with it."  
Bobby grew angry. He was nothing like Sam! He didn't start the apocalypse! And he sure didn't have feelings for Crowley!  
A small whisper in the back of his head stopped him from going off on Sam.  
LIAR.  
"Sam, dammit!" He said gruffly. "I don't know what to do. It's WRONG!"  
Sam sighed over the phone, and Bobby could imagine his pinching the brim of his nose in irritation.  
"Bobby, you can deal with this! You can have a normal relationship." He paused. "But there's one rule." He paused dramatically again, and dammit what was it with all the dramatic Winchester pauses?  
"You can't drink his blood. Ever. Or you're bound to him until he dies. Just like I was to her." He said softly.  
Bobby took a deep breath. "I ain't gonna drink his blood! I just wanna know why I...why I feel this way."  
"Sometimes, it's just fate Bobby. There's not much I can tell you. Just take the items I told you to get in the panic room and wait a day. If you still feel the same way after that, then you have my blessing to, ah." He paused, voice tightening. "Do whatever you want."  
Bobby growled. "Don't order me around, Boy!"  
"Jesus Christ, Bobby, you're acting like a teenage girl!" There was another deep breath over the line.  
"Just, send me an invite when it's all said and done."  
There was a click, and the line went dead.  
Well, fuck.  
The next day, after spending all night watching Nemo and crying his way through a thing if ice cream and three apples, Bobby returned to the land of the living.  
Crowley was waiting for him on his couch, legs crossed as he smirked.  
"Why, Robert. I do believe you missed our date yesterday."  
Bobby said nothing. Crowley looked unimpressed, tilting his head to the side.  
"Grumpy today, aren't we?" His tone snide.  
Bobby cracked. "Just leave!" He shouted loudly. "I'm so tired of you! You're all I can think about!" Uh oh. Now he sounded like a Disney movie.  
Crowley's face paled, if that was possible.  
"All you can think about?" He asked softly.  
Bobby nodded angrily. "Yeah."  
Crowley's face looked thoughtful.  
"Well," he said, drawing it out. "You just wanna fuck now or do I have to buy you flowers first?"  
"YOU FUCKER! Get outta my house!" Bobby screamed.  
Oh yeah. Love was hard.  
The end :)


End file.
